


Torn Photographs

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drift Telling It Like It Is, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Ratchet Is Being A Baby About Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 12:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: Why can’t we laugh now like we did then?How come I see you and ache instead?





	Torn Photographs

“He never smiles like he used to.”

“Because he’s not the same mech anymore; that’s what death does.”

“…It’s not fair.”

Drift shrugged, sitting next to Ratchet at a bar neither of them knew the name of. The sight of the red liquid in Drift’s glass had triggered talk; and that talk had, as it often did, turned to reminiscing. Drift took a slow pull from his glass, clawtips tiktaking against the material that wasn’t quite glass, but too delicate to be plastic.

Ratchet fell silent, brooding.

“I miss the old him, the old Perceptor.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”, said Drift, the words bordering sarcastic.

Ratchet turned his helm, glaring slightly, only to be met with something like a sneer buried in Drift’s calm expression. The exiled mech set his glass down, tracing the lip of it with a servotip.

“What makes you think he doesn’t miss who he once was, Ratchet.”

“The whole sniper aesthetic was a big clue-”

“And what makes you think he wanted to become one?”, was the next quiet question. Drift stared, optics burning holes through Ratchet’s bitter facade to the center of Ratchet’s well-masked worry.

“He’s still Perceptor, regardless of his reticule.”

“No, he’s not.”

“I can assure you, he is.”, said Drift, his laugh mirthless and cold, “Just like I, on some level, will always be Deadlock. And you, on many levels, will always be Ratchet the Hopeful Medic-in-Training.”

“What makes you-”

“You resent First Aid’s insistence on optimism as much as you respect his skills as a medic, and you are both a terrible liar and the WORST actor I’ve ever met.”

Ratchet’s jaw dropped slightly as Drift took another sip, humming in appreciation of the tangy taste.

“You resent Perceptor for changing without your permission as much as you respect that he had no choice in the matter. It was either evolve, or die- and he’d already experienced death at that point.”, continued Drift, “You don’t hate what he became, you hate that you can’t hate him for WHAT he became.”

Drift looked Ratchet dead in the optics, something harsh and vicious in the momentary lock of optics before he turned away and finished his drink.

“Learn that your supposed control is an illusion, ad you will be free of such petty feelings.”, he murmured after taking the glass away from his lipplates.

“Says who, y’damn hippy-”

Drift set his empty glass down, hard. He swallowed, neckcabling shifting before he spoke with Deadlock’s old drawl.

“Says a mech pettier’n you, Doc.”

With that, Drift rose, paid the bartender, and turned on his heel. Ratchet watched him go, knowing his drink was paid for, including the next four they both knew he’d have.

He looked away from the door after Drift left through it, and remained silent for the remainder of his evening.


End file.
